


Formidable

by Amazon9398



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 06:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amazon9398/pseuds/Amazon9398
Summary: Set in @thedisappointedidealist12 / @ask-teacher-francis 's Teacher AU from tumblr.Francis Bonnefoy's life is in shambles following his divorce from his husband, Arthur Kirkland. As Francis struggles to cope with his new reality, he continuously finds himself lost in memories of when his life was wonderful.(Sort of) a song fic for Stromae's Formidable





	Formidable

‘ _It wasn’t supposed to be like this_ ’.

The man thought numbly as he stared at the divorce paperwork laid out in front of him. He glanced across the table at the man he loved, who was currently staring stoically at the paperwork laid out before them. Francis wondered if it hurt Arthur to be sitting here as much as it hurt him. If it did, the man certainly wasn’t allowing it to show on his face.

Francis could barely hear the words the boisterous lawyer Arthur had brought with him was saying. The man seemed so damn happy about the current situation, how could anyone keep a cheerful face on in a place like this? At least Francis’ lawyer had the decency to keep a respectful and solemn tone, not saying things like “I think that’s pretty fair” and “You’re making out a lot better than most people do in this situation.”

Damn it, Francis didn’t _want_ to be in this situation! It took all he had not to stand up and wring the loud man’s neck. Instead he swallowed the lump in his throat and looked fearfully at the pen his lawyer was offering to him.

“A-Arthur…” He croaked weakly, struggling against the crushing weight bearing down on him so that he could push his voice out. “Is this really what you want? I-I know the last few months have been a little... rocky… but we can work this out! I know we can!” He said with a desperate tone in his voice.

He watched as the smaller man slowly raised his eyes to meet his own. Francis saw a small flicker of emotion in the man’s eyes, but what was it? Pain? Regret? Sadness? He couldn’t place it. All he knew was that he _never_ wanted to see Arthur look that way again.

“I’m sorry Francis.” The blonde said, lifting his hand and signing his name on the horrid papers. “I believe this is for the best. There is nothing to work out anymore. Please just sign the papers.” Arthur murmured, keeping his voice as level and professional as he could as he capped the pen and stood up, gathering his jacket. He glanced at the tall lawyer. “Thank you, Mr. Jones.” He headed to the door and glanced back at his now ex-husband. “Francis…” He began, watching the taller blonde look at him with some desperate hope in his eyes.

The shorter man looked away. “Please come by the house before Matthew gets home from school to gather the things you’ll be taking to your apartment. I don’t want him to have to see that.” He mumbled and headed out.

Francis felt like he’d been shot as he watched the love of his life walk out the door. The searing pain in his heart was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He wondered vaguely if he was about to die.

He was only somewhat aware of Arthur’s lawyer gathering up Arthur’s paperwork and asking Francis’ lawyer to ensure that Francis signed the papers before walking out of the room and heading in the same direction that Arthur had.

Francis weakly looked up as the Japanese man gently offered him the pen again with sympathetic eyes. “My apologies, Mr. Bonnefoy, but I do need you to sign these for me.”

The Frenchman took the pen, it felt like a burning iron in his hand. He wanted nothing more than to throw it across the room, snap it in half, stab it into the table, _something_ \- and run out of the room after Arthur. However, he knew that none of that would help his current situation.

He silently signed the papers before standing and walking out of the room, twisting his wedding band off as he walked and glancing at it miserably before shoving it into his pocket and heading out to his car.

 -

As he arrived at the house he was supposed to grow old with Arthur in, Francis noted that his ex-husband’s car wasn’t even in the driveway. He saw the boxes of his belongings sitting behind the slightly ajar garage door and walked over to gather them, making a couple trips to his car.

Each time, he would glance back at the house and hope that Arthur would be standing in a window waving and smiling at him, or that he’d hear Arthur and Matthew out back working in the garden. Deep down he knew it was impossible, but those little daydreams kept his legs from giving out from despair, kept him going back for multiple trips until what was left of his life was packed into the back of his car and he was forced to take the wheel and try and figure out where to go from there.

Francis would be lying if he said he didn’t sit in front of their driveway and cry over his steering wheel for a long while before leaving. After all, he had nothing now. His wonderful life was gone. His husband, his home, time spent with his child, none of it would ever be the same.

This was supposed to be the time in his life where things had finally settled into place and he could enjoy life surrounded by family and friends in a mundane yet comfortable existence. Why did he suddenly have to start over? He’d gone from a successful 30-year-old with a lovely family and home to some hopeless bachelor living in an apartment again, as if he was fresh out of college.

Thoughts swirled in his mind as he drove across town to what was supposed to be his new home (as if it would ever feel like that). The distracted man nearly ran almost three red lights as he drove over to the cheap apartment complex. It wasn’t like he could afford better, he hadn’t worked ever since they’d adopted Matthew.

As he unloaded his belongings from the car, his thoughts wandered back to that day.

-

_“I think he’s a perfect fit.” Francis said with a smile as he sat with his husband on the couch, looking over some different case files with him._

_“He was so well behaved during the sleepover, and he seems like such a sweet child. Frankly, I’m amazed nobody else has snatched him up yet.” He chuckled as Arthur smiled gently and continued glancing over the paperwork._

_“Mhm, he certainly is a sweet boy. It seemed like he didn’t get much attention at the orphanage. He was so surprised whenever we’d ask a question directed at him, and he was so scared of speaking out of turn at the sleepover.” Arthur frowned sadly. “If we go with him then I think it’s best if one of us quits work for a while and stays home with him, at least until he’s old enough to attend school. The caretakers did mention he might need a little help socializing…”_

_Francis nodded gently. He was a teacher. He did get some nice benefits, and the hours were pretty lax, however his salary wasn’t really all that great. His husband was an audio engineer. Most of his work was in the media industry involving audio for local commercials. He even occasionally wrote jingles for local businesses and worked on recordings for local musicians. While Arthur’s work was a bit more sporadic than his husband’s, he would certainly make more if he buckled down and started seeking out more jobs._

_“It should be me then, oui?” Francis asked as he took a sip of his coffee. “You’d make more than me if you put your all into working full time instead of gigs here and there…”_

_Arthur sighed and nodded softly, sipping from his tea. “Yes, I think we’ll be able to handle the hit. Besides, Matthew will be four in July. He only has about a year before he starts school, we can handle that easily!” He said, the cocky grin he used to wear in college sneaking onto his face._

_Francis smiled as he watched Arthur. “You’re right.” He leaned over and pecked his husband on the cheek. “It’s settled then, let’s head down to the orphanage and finalize things.” He said, grabbing their car keys off the table._

_Arthur smiled and nodded, standing up and hugging Francis tightly. “Let’s go pick up our son.” The shorter man murmured._

_-_

Francis was knocked from the pleasant memory as his keys slipped off his finger while he tried to hold his boxes in one hand and unlock the apartment with the other. He groaned and carefully tried to kneel down and pick them up and let out a snarl of frustration as the boxes toppled from his hand and his belongings tumbled to the floor.

“Shit.” The man hissed as he got on his knees and began hastily gathering things up. He paused as he carefully reached down and picked up a small picture frame. Inside was a very nice family portrait they’d had done only a few months ago. Seeing it made pain flare up in Francis’ chest. The blonde was launched into another memory.

-

_“Smile!” The photographer instructed as the family posed for their picture. Arthur was sat in a chair with Matthew standing by his side and Francis standing a little further back, resting his hands on Matthew’s shoulder and the top of Arthur’s chair._

_As he glanced at the digital preview of the picture, Francis noticed that Arthur’s smile wasn’t exactly… normal. The smile was not nearly wide enough to be genuine, and its warmth did not reach his eyes, which just looked tired and distant._

_While they waited for their copies to print, Francis and Arthur brought Matthew to a nearby playground to play. While sitting at the picnic table by the playground, Francis glanced over at his husband. “Mon cher, are you feeling okay? You seemed like you weren’t all there while we were getting the portrait done.” He murmured and gently put his hand over his husband’s._

_Arthur glanced up for a moment before sighing and looking away. “I’m sorry dear. I’ve just been working so many hours lately, it’s starting to wear on me.” As if to accentuate his point, Arthur let out a loud yawn after saying that._

_Francis’ eyes softened. “I know darling, I know I said I’d go back to work after Matthew started school, but I think it’s just been so good for him having someone to come home to at the end of the day instead of waiting around at some daycare after school…”_

_Arthur frowned a little and turned his attention towards their son, currently spinning himself around on a swing. “I know it has, but we have to draw the line somewhere Francis, I feel like I’ve been living at work recently.”_

_Francis nodded gently. “I know it’s been hard, but Matthew and I appreciate everything you do for this family, I assure you.” He smiled and gently touched the man’s hand again._

_Arthur did not look satisfied with his husband’s answer, but just nodded gently. “Right…” The man mumbled, a small frown forming on his face._

_-_

Francis glanced miserably at the cracked glass. ‘ _You fucking idiot’._ He thought to himself as he carefully placed the damaged frame on top of the rest of his belongings and opened the door. ‘ _All of the signs were there. Why couldn’t you just listen to him?’_

The Frenchman set his boxes down and looked around the lonely apartment silently. He hated everything about it. He couldn’t even stand to be in it right now. Instead, he grabbed his keys and headed to do the one thing he’d wanted to do ever since leaving the courthouse – get a drink.

_-_

Francis knew what he was doing at the bar was stupid. He hadn’t even told anyone where he was going that night and at the rate he was going he was going to drink himself into a coma.

However, he couldn’t really bring himself to stop. The burn from the alcohol at least distracted him from the searing pain that had taken up residence in his chest for the last couple of months.

Normally, Francis wasn’t a huge drinker. He preferred a sophisticated glass of wine. Quite frankly, he was currently drinking in a way he hadn’t since college. He glanced at the amber liquid in his glass with bloodshot eyes and allowed himself to be lost in another memory.

_-_

_Francis watched the “band” that was currently playing with an interested smirk. They were pretty hammered (like everyone else at the party, including himself), so quite a few of the notes were off and the words to the songs were a little slurred. However, Francis still found himself quite interested in the lead guitarist/vocalist. A short man with messy blonde hair, venomous green eyes, a leather jacket, and a quite ugly pair of ripped jeans._

_Once they were finished up with their set, Francis sauntered up to the vocalist with a playful smirk. “Quite an interesting set you played.” He mused as he leaned on an amp, watching the shorter man wrap up a microphone cord._

_The blonde turned around and looked like he was about to tell Francis off, however after quite obviously giving the man a once over he decided he liked what he saw and put on a smile instead. “You think so? It got a little rough there around the end, but I think that just makes it more genuine.”_

_Francis raised an eyebrow in interest. “Is that how you’re playing it?” He laughed. “Because to me it sounded like you were just too drunk to play properly.” He teased and laughed as he watched the smaller man take offense._

_“Fuck you! I am not! In fact, I bet you I can drink your sissy ass under the table!”_

_Francis grinned. “A wager? Alright, I’ll take your bet. What are we betting?”_

_Arthur smirked. “If I win, you have to be a groupie for our next three gigs.” He said, wiggling three fingers. “Setting up equipment, travelling with us, and of course taking care of our drunk asses after the shows since we /clearly/ can’t hold our liquor.” The man snorted._

_Francis nodded. “Alright, If I win, I’m entitled to drag you to three events of my choosing. I’ll make sure they’re the snobbiest, cleanest, most boring, least ‘punk’ things I can find, too.” He smirked._

_Arthur grinned. “Sounds like a deal.” They shook hands and sat down at one of the picnic tables the party host had set up as people gathered around to watch their challenge._

_The result of the contest was a little hazy. In all honesty he couldn’t remember either of them winning. He just remembered ending the night making out with Arthur and ignoring Gilbert’s encouraging cries of “WOOOOO! Get some Bonnefoy!”._

_In the end, the winner of the contest hadn’t really mattered. Francis had still attended all of Arthur’s shows from there on out, and Arthur had gone on many “sophisticated” dates with Francis throughout the remainder of their college years._

_-_

Francis was dragged out of his reminiscing by the bartender’s rough voice. “Bonnefoy!” The man called from next to the phone on the wall. “Is there a Francis Bonnefoy here?”

The blonde blearily looked up with bloodshot eyes. “Who’s asking?” He slurred.

The bartender frowned and leaned into the phone. “Yeah, he’s here. He’s pretty plastered, though. Come and pick his ass up.” The man hung up the phone before heading back to his spot behind the bar.

Francis had tuned out the rest of the conversation when the bartender had ignored his question. Instead, he’d turned his attention to the large TV’s hanging on the walls. He didn’t really care about what was on, but his glass was empty, and the bartender wasn’t giving him another.

He dazedly watched the colorful uniforms move around the field for a while before jerking upright as he heard Arthur’s voice on the TV. He was singing the jingle he’d written for that hotshot lawyer, as the loud man had filmed a commercial for his services.

Hearing the voice sent Francis flying a few weeks into the past when his life had truly turned to shit.

-

_“W-What do you mean you’ve fallen out of love with me… when did this happen? What are you even talking about?!” Francis asked desperately, looking at his husband nervously._

_“Please, don’t yell at me Francis.” Arthur said quietly, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. “I mean what I said. Ever since we adopted Matthew and you quit work, I just feel like we’ve been drifting further and further apart…”_

_Francis swallowed thickly. “I-I know it’s been tough lately, you’ve been working so hard on that lawyer’s commercial… but you said it was almost done, oui? After that you can take a break and we can spend some time together, work whatever… this… is out!”_

_Arthur frowned very deeply. “I can’t just take a break Francis. Especially considering you still haven’t found, or even looked… for a new job.” He muttered._

_Francis frowned. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for Matthew!”_

_Arthur looked up with tears in his eyes. “Matthew will be FINE, Francis!” The man suddenly snapped. “He’ll be OKAY if he has to go to daycare after school, he’s perfectly well adjusted now!” He growled but quickly lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, remembering that Matthew was still awake upstairs._

_“B-but all of the parenting books and articles- “Francis began but was cut off by his husband._

_“I know what they say! Of course, it would be wonderful if one of us could stay home with Matthew full time, but I just can’t take this anymore Francis. I don’t even feel like I’m part of this family anymore.” A couple stray tears rolled down his cheeks. “And your reactions tonight are only reaffirming my views. You aren’t even trying to compromise, just trying to convince me that I’m wrong…” The man rubbed his eyes and looked extremely exhausted. “I haven’t felt listened to in months, Francis. At least not around here I haven’t.” He muttered._

_Francis ignored the alarm bells the last sentence set off in his head and instead took a step towards his husband, taking his arm gently. “Arthur… I’m sorry.” He whimpered. “I-I…” He swallowed. “I’ll start looking for another job! I-… I’ll do better to listen!”_

_Arthur took a step back and wrapped his arms around himself. “I… suppose you can try, Francis. However, I meant what I said previously, I just… Don’t feel the same love that I used to with you.” He murmured, and Francis felt like his heart was being put through a wringer._

_“I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, we can discuss things some more after we’ve both calmed down.” The Brit said softly and walked out of the kitchen, leaving his husband standing there in a stunned silence._

_The next few weeks had been a whirlwind of Francis desperately searching for a job with no luck as well as trying to appease the increasingly distant Arthur all while doing his best to put on a façade for Matthew._

_However, nothing seemed to work. He could feel his husband growing further and further away from him as the previous few months were put into a different perspective. He truly had been an inattentive husband, and now he was paying the price._

_Things had fallen apart slowly at first, Arthur sleeping on the couch instead of their room, keeping his sentences short and his affection limited, and then they’d stopped entirely. Suddenly he was looking for separate apartments, separate bank accounts, methodically cutting their life in half. All the while, Francis had been getting into more and more desperate arguments with him, and it had all come crashing down the day Arthur formally asked for a divorce._

_-_

A blind rage came over Francis and he suddenly threw the glass at the TV that was currently playing the commercial. The glass and screen shattered and the bartender forcefully ejected Francis from the establishment.

The drunk blonde had landed ungracefully on the curb and was now just laying there staring out at the street. He debated crawling out into the street but found that he simply didn’t have the energy.

He felt like a black cloud was swallowing up his insides, engulfing more and more of him. Surely, he’d disappear in a short while, lost in that awful blackness…

“There you are. Gott, you look like shit Bonnefoy.” A voice cut through the blackness, and he was slowly drawn out of it as he opened his eyes and saw one of his closest friends looking down at him with a mix of pity and disappointment.

Francis just sighed and closed his eyes again, but Gilbert was having none of it. “Hey, Hey. Come on Francis.” He gently slapped the man’s cheek and grabbed him by the armpits, trying to hoist the drunk man up. “You can sleep when you get home, okay?” He asked, grunting with effort as he finally managed to drape one of Francis’ arms over his shoulder.

“Ce n'est pas à la maison.” Francis mumbled numbly, slipping into his native language as he often did when he was too tired or too drunk to bother translating.

“Come on Bonnefoy, you know I only passed college French ‘cause I cheated off you.” Gilbert chuckled. “What do you mean? Something about it not being home?”

Francis teared up. “Il n'est pas là…”

Gilbert paused and frowned gently. “I know he’s not there. I’m not gonna lie, it’s gonna hurt like hell for a while.” He said and looked forward to ensure they wouldn’t stumble over uneven pavement. “You’re gonna have to work through it, and it’s gonna suck. But there will be other things in life to look forward to.”

The blonde let out a small sob. “Il était mon avenir. Nous étions formidable…”

Gilbert sighed and looked up at the sky. “The future’s a bitch, Francis. You never know what she’s gonna toss your way next.” He muttered as they arrived at Francis’ new apartment complex. “We’ll get to the future together, okay?” Gilbert smiled and there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I promise you that. Now let’s get you into bed…”

Gilbert tucked his friend into bed, laying him on his side and leaving a painkiller and a glass of water on the nightstand before leaving the apartment and heading back to his own home.

-

The only thing Francis felt when he woke up was numb. There was no pain from the hangover or stabbing in his heart or nausea in his stomach. He felt like a shell. He was simply…. There.

There he stayed for the better part of two days. He couldn’t bring himself to unpack or search for a job or even cook for himself. He just wanted to lay there and waste away.

On his third night there, Francis heard his phone ring. He rolled over and glanced at the time, 1AM. Who could it be at this hour? Was it Gilbert to check on him again? He grabbed the phone and went tense when he saw the number.

Answering instantly, he brought the phone to his ear and felt his voice quiver as he desperately answered “Arthur?”

“Papa?”

Francis froze and slowly sat up. It was Matthew, calling from Arthur’s phone… He swallowed and calmed his voice. “Matthew, mon coeur, what are you doing up so late? Is something wrong?”

“No, I just wanted to check on you. I miss you.”

Francis felt something for the first time in three days, the stabbing pain had returned, and he felt tears well in his eyes to accompany it. Still, he kept his voice level and responded.

“I miss you too, mon cher. How was your day?”

Francis listened to his son recount the day’s events before calming down and growing tired again. He wished the boy goodbye and told Matthew he loved him before hanging up and sitting up in his bed, looking down at the phone silently.

He did still have some things to look forward to, like seeing Matthew this weekend. He didn’t want Matthew to see him like this. Seeing Matthew would be wonderful, and Francis wanted to feel wonderful again as soon as he could.

He stood up and took a shower before heading to the kitchen and making something for himself. Despite the time, he sat in the living room and got to work unpacking. By the time he finished, the apartment resembled a half decent living space.

Francis took a deep breath as he looked around. He would have to work hard to make his future wonderful again.


End file.
